


Your Very Last Hour

by quiet_rebel



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Angst (duh), Crack Relationships, Dark, F/M, Season 3 Spoilers, They're hot together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 02:12:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7599388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet_rebel/pseuds/quiet_rebel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate Fuller and the sun god | Just go with it</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Very Last Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I already love Brasa...and have you seen the new promo pictures? Ugh.
> 
> Enjoy the cracktastic smut!
> 
> Feedback is fuel.

Kate's screaming when she first sets eyes on the man. In the dark room, she thinks it's one of them. He has the same build, the slicked-back hair, the clenched jaw, the stubble, the black clothes that easily blends with the shadows. She snarls, twisting her wrists in her restraints. She wants to kill...them.

But when he leans over her, his whispers tell her another story. There is no facade in his tone; he's not acting or playing a role. He is confident, sure, and it calms her. 

Through the red haze, his voice speaks.

“Breathe, my darling.” 

She inhales.

“I know it hurts, but pain is only temporary.” 

She exhales.

“That's good. Now do it again.”

Soon, her chest is rising and falling with each intake of air, and the pain—the pain of resurrection—vanishes. 

He leans over her and she can finally see his face. Handsome, older, his eyes are dark embers. 

“My name is Brasa,” he says.

He places his hand over her neck, but she isn't afraid. The blood inside her that brought her back to this life recognizes his touch. It's like meeting an old friend, an old lover.

When he moves his hand to cup her cheek, she's surprised to find his palm is warmer than her own fiery skin. Instead of recoiling, she leans into his touch. It's so familiar she wonders how many centuries Brasa had been waiting for her.

**

The screaming doesn't stop.

Kate hears them through all hours of the day and into the night. The thousand souls in torment. 

**

One night, Brasa removes her restraints. He takes her into another room in the empty mansion. They stand a few feet apart, face to face. The embers glow in his eyes. 

“What are you?” Kate asks.

He hold out his right hand and slowly, a ball of light begins to grow. He curls his long fingers and the light becomes dancing golden tendrils. It reminds her of chasing fireflies with Scott in the backyard back in Bethel. She closes her eyes to shut out the memory (pain is only temporary) and even through the darkness, she still sees Brasa's light, can still feel the warmth emitting from it.

When she opens her eyes, the ball of light has consumed them both. She's standing on the sun and instead of feeling burned, it feels like being wrapped in a blanket. 

Brasa touches her red hair and sparks fly. Standing in the light, he looks like some sort of angel. But Kate knows better. He drops his hand from her and the light extinguishes. There is a chill in the room now. 

**

Kate doesn't return to the restraints. Instead, she climbs into Brasa's bed. He draws her close until their chests connect. Inhale, exhale. She is warm again.

She brushes her fingers against his cheek. He holds on to her waist. Their gazes lock, studying each other. She wants to know what sunlight tastes like, so, she kisses him. He kisses her back. It's soft, gentle. 

She pulls away to look at Brasa, at this man who taught her how to breathe again. What other things can he teach her?

She lowers her hand to already find him hard, and he moans as she unbuckles his belt and slides her hand inside the front of his jeans. She grabs his cock and begins to stroke him. He kisses her in response.

“Touch me.” She's panting against his mouth. “Please, touch me.”

Brasa rolls her on her back, pushing her T-shirt over her head. She's not wearing a bra. He runs his tongue over her right nipple as his hands work on removing her pants and underwear. Everything is on fire again, and once she is naked, the heat between them only becomes stronger.

Brasa pauses to look at her, but she doesn't feel embarrassed or shy. Not when he's looking at her like she is the sun. His hot hands roam her body, across her smooth stomach, where the bullets had ripped through her, before resting in between her thighs. He teases her by running his knuckle along her wet slit. She almost leaps off the bed. But he holds her down. 

He holds her down.

He had removed her restraints, so he could hold her down himself.

With one hand pressed against her rib cage, he pushes a finger inside her. She moans, adjusting to the new sensation. Then, he pushes a second finger in, stretching her even more. 

He lowers his mouth to hers, whispering, “Breathe, my darling.”

“Darling,” she echoes.

And he's fucking her with his fingers. Fingers that can make light dance. 

Kate comes hard, her mouth still pressed against Brasa's. He lifts his hand, then inserts the fingers that had been inside her in between her lips. She sucks on them, the taste of herself and sunlight mingling on her tongue. 

As Brasa watches her, his face darkens. “Do you know what it's like to be filled with light?”

_Once upon a time..._

He pulls away to discard the rest of his clothing. Blood rushes to her head at the sight of his naked body. His muscles. The tattoo of a red rising sun across his chest. The dark trail of hair starting at his belly button and leading to his cock. 

She recalls the fantasies she used to have about Seth during those three months in Mexico. His head in between her legs, her face pressed against a pillow as he took her from behind. Each time she had those thoughts, she prayed for forgiveness and promised it would never happen again. 

But as she looks at Brasa, there is no guilt, no regret, no shame. 

She wants to be filled with light.

His light.

Kate grabs him, pulling him back to the bed with her. They kiss with desire and desperation, teeth and tongue. She opens her legs for him, and he slowly slides into her. She winches. 

_Pain is only temporary._

“More,” she says.

He pushes deeper into her, stretching and filling her even more than his fingers; it makes her feel complete, whole. She clings to him, digging her nails into his back as he begins to thrust in and out of her. She wraps her legs around him.

“More, more, more...” It becomes a chant, a litany. 

Brasa obeys, moving harder and faster. And soon, the pain does dissolve. She bites down on his shoulder as the first wave of pleasure washes over her. Then, another wave hits her, and another. She shouts his name as she comes again with flickers of light behind her eyelids. 

With no warning, Brasa hoists her up, still inside her. She's straddling him. He wraps her arms around his neck and presses their foreheads together. She bounces on top of him, and already, she feels another wave ready to crash down on her. 

“Do you feel it?” Brasa grabs the back of her head and pulls her hair hard enough for her to like it. “Do you feel me inside you?”

“Yes,” she gasps. Kate pushes him back on the bed and with her palms flat on his chest, she starts to ride him. “Do you—do you feel me inside you?” 

He lets out a loud groan. “Always.”

Then, an explosion of light envelopes the room. It ignites Kate from the inside out. She throws her head back as she rides the wave to shore. Waiting for her is Brasa.

She falls forward onto his chest and he cradles her to him. She lifts her head, meeting Brasa's smile. The light dims, but not the one inside her.

**

In the morning, Kate finds herself staring at the sun. She traces the tattoo on Brasa's chest as he sleeps. The ink looks fresh, but she knows its true age. Brasa had revealed to her his identity; he was a sun god. Now, he was forgotten. A legend they only wrote about in children's books. 

“In the old world, humans would sacrifice themselves to please me,” he told her. “Their blood gave me power.”

She thinks about the holy blood inside her. What kind of power can it give her?

Brasa opens his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I can't sleep.” She continues to run her finger over the red sun on his chest. “The screaming. I can still hear all of them.”

He sits up, the embers in his eyes glowing like hot coals. “What should we do about it?”

Kate doesn't want to be forgotten, to be turned into folklore. She needs to add other screams—other souls—to her collection. 

She moves next to Brasa and brushes her lips against his mouth. “Let's make everyone remember who we are.”

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Song title is from "Carry Your Cross, and I'll Carry Mine" by Tiamat (song on repeat as I was writing)
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MCrO93CwBJw
> 
>  
> 
> Blame my cloven hooves - If I sink what does it prove  
> I'll always will be your prey  
> Blame my crooked cross - Say I'm your bitter loss  
> The winds of hell are blowing your way
> 
> Carry your cross and I'll carry mine  
> Dig your own hole and you'll be fine  
> Build your own tower until heavens devour  
> Your very last hour
> 
> Blame it on Hell's fire - And on my desires  
> The skies are crying blood  
> Give me all your lies - And blame the lord of flies  
> The face of evil is the face of GOD
> 
> Carry your cross and I'll carry mine  
> Dig your own hole and you'll be fine  
> Build your own tower until heavens devour  
> Your very last hour


End file.
